Imaginary Relations
by DeathtoInsomnia
Summary: Mac is being abused by his brother and Bloo is not there to stop it, but the thought of Bloo helps Mac through it all. {This is the first thing I have written in a long time, so I apologize if it sucks, but please, do not be too harsh.}


"Imaginary Relations"

The beefy predator shoved the smaller boy into the cement wall. "Where's your imaginary friend now?" he questioned, his tone dripping with sarcasm. The bully-Terrence-teased, pulling at Mac's chocolate tresses.

Even though Mac was now older, Terrence still felt it necessary to torment him at every turn, kicking his younger brother down every time he dare get back up, crushing his self-esteem every time he got the chance. It killed Mac everyday to wake up, go to school, and even look in the mirror at his bruised face. His peers at school taunted him about the bruises, asking him if his parents had beaten him the night before, which-of course-they had not, since one was buried six feet underground, and the other was a workaholic. If he had to be honest, in his subconscious, both of his parents were dead to him.

Terrence pulled Mac back from the wall, slamming him into it once more, Mac's shoulder blade grinding against the rigid texture, his soft cotton shirt tearing on impact. Mac clamped his jaw shut, attempting to conceal a groan that would insinuate that he was in pain. He knew that Terrence got off on stuff like that, so he wasn't about to give him what he yearned for. {He didn't get off in the sexual way; he merely enjoyed hearing Mac scream in pain.}

"Please stop, Terrence," Mac begged, swallowing down a massive lump that had been lodged into his throat. He leaned as far back as he could, pressing even further into the stone cold barrier. "I have geometry homework to do, and I failed my last assignment, because you stole my homework for your class, so I kind of need to study…" Mac trailed on, realizing that he had said too much, as is usual.

The older male merely snickered, grabbing his thin face within his large hands. Terrence dug his pointed nails into Mac's flawless cheek, penetrating his flesh, causing it to tear open just a slight bit, allowing crimson to pool from the wound. The brunette winced outwardly, the familiar stinging of tears burned behind his eyes as he attempted to slip passed his elder without any injuries…any more injuries. Though this task was extremely close to impossible, he undertook it anyhow.

Biting his bottom lip, Mac slipped underneath Terrence's colossal appendage, making a break for his room. Stumbling a bit, he made it just in time, for he slammed his wooden door on his brothers' nose, hopefully breaking it.

"Let me in! Now!" Terrence demanded, obviously frustrated with the position that he was in. He no longer held the upper hand, and he loathed it. It was always required for Terrence to have the upper hand-in everything, no matter what it was, but this time was different. It was different in the way that Mac was actually standing up for himself.

The young boy was sick and tired of gazing into the mirror for endless hours, struggling to fix what he saw. He was sick and tired of being abused both at school and at home. He was merely sick and tired of living in general, but now…now he was able to change that. All he had to do was stand up for himself, then the bully would no longer bother him, right?

Though that is what his teachers had always taught him, that answer was not correct in this case, for Mac standing up for himself only caused Terrence's anger to flare up even more, his banging becoming more persistent and obnoxious. He was petrified, Mac was, but he would never admit it to Terrence or anyone else…well, maybe one person, but he was no longer staying with him.

Sighing deeply, a chronic ache filling his cardiovascular muscle, Mac sat on his springy mattress, thoughts of self harm floating about his cranium. Though Mac knew that those melancholy queries were there, he knew that he would never actually do anything like that, for he was a coward. A coward that did not have enough courage to do what should have been done a long time ago. This fact only added to his self hatred.

Mac froze as he heard the door open, realizing that in the heat of the moment, he did not lock it. Salty tears dripped from his eyes and onto his pale complexion, staining his cheeks a dark scarlet, a crimson like color flushing around his eyes as well. Terrence smirked as he stepped into the darkened room, cracking his knuckles as he did so. He was not going to go easy on Mac. For the love of God, he had actually stood up for himself, and it only made the torture worse. There was no escape from this…there was no getting out of this…unless Mac would gather up the courage to just end it all, but he was confident that that would never happen.

"You shouldn't have run away from me!" Terrence shrieked, slamming his fist into Mac's chest, knocking the breath from his lungs as he fell backwards, landing hard against the wall near his bed. "Please…"he begged almost silently, knowing that arguing with the beast was pointless, for he would never leave him alone now.

Terrence simply shook his head, sniggering at Mac's performance. He looked absolutely pathetic, what with his tears stained cheeks and his puffy, red eyes. He was most definitely not worth it tonight, not when he broke this easily. Standing up, Terrence turned to walk out of the doorway, knocking a picture frame over on his way out, slipping a rude comment under his breath as he did so.

"Fag," he whispered, chuckling to himself as he went back to his own living area, leaving Mac alone with his own, empty space.

Mac sighed in relief, brushing the meager comment off of his shoulder as though it was dirt, glaring down the hall at Terrence's back. He walked as though no fight had bloomed within the household between the two boys, throwing himself into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Now that Mac was sure that he was alone, he allowed his bottom lip to quiver as he stood tall, tilting his chin up, attempting to look confident, even though he knew that he did not. He swiftly closed the thin door, plucking up the cracked frame, sliding its contents out of it.

Though it was difficult to believe, Mac found himself smiling as his eyes rested upon the ancient photograph. It was an image taken quit awhile ago, when Mac was eight to be exact. Mac stood next to his best friend in the world, his eyes filled to the brim with light and innocence, which was quickly stolen away from his older brother. His eyes wondered over to the left of the picture. Bloo. His best friend; his only friend. The chronic agony returned to his chest once more, but this time it was much worse. It hit him harder than a ton of bricks would have, or at least that's what he thought anyway…

He wanted Bloo.

He needed Bloo.

He lived for Bloo.

That night Mac clutched the photo to his chest, not loosening his grip once-even whilst he slept-and cried himself into unconsciousness.


End file.
